By Nina Bachkatov and Romain Constantin
On February 2 2026, a video circulated on the pro-Russian Telegram channel Voin DV bearing the caption: “Units of the Vostok Battle Group liberated the settlement of Pridorozhnoe.” The footage shows a succession of drone shots capturing the assault, bombardment and eventual seizure of the single street and handful of houses of this tiny settlement of Ukraine’s Zaporizhzhia region.
The capture of Pridorozhnoe was not, in itself, strategically significant. It merely marked another incremental step in Russia’s grinding local advance. The manner in which it was communicated, however, is notable as an illustration of a new model of wartime communication that has gradually taken shape during the conflict in Ukraine, on both sides
Chilling transparency
What stands out in videos published directly by military units or disseminated through sympathetic Telegram channels such as Voin DV is their cold, unvarnished transparency. Military operations are laid bare and set to heroic soundtracks: communications equipment destroyed, buildings struck with precision, flags planted amid ruins to signal control. Most disturbing are the scenes showing the clinical pursuit of enemy infantry, capturing the final seconds before impact, where fear and despair are visible through the drone’s camera.
Such raw footage is absent from state television, where sanitised clips from the defence ministry continue to dominate. Yet its accessibility, visibility and scale of dissemination are unprecedented. This exposure to the mechanics of war is reshaping public tolerance for what can be shown online while also creating a new form of battlefield accountability. Success is packaged heroically by one side, while failure is documented in brutal detail by the other.
Telegram’s battlefield
This new form of accountability has been enabled by the mass adoption of Telegram, now the primary distribution channel in both Russia and Ukraine for a new generation of nationalist, pro-war correspondents — the milbloggers, or voenkory. Together with military analysts who produce detailed frontline maps, they form a powerful Telegram ecosystem.
This network often acts as a corrective to, or even a contradiction of, official state narratives, reporting on deteriorating frontline conditions and military setbacks. From the earliest days of the war, it allowed raw, unfiltered content — ranging from soldiers’ direct appeals to commanders to scandals such as the outcry over the deaths of 400 Russian soldiers on New Year’s Eve 2022 — to bypass official channels and shape public perception.
The undisputed master of this new communication style was Yevgeny Prigozhin. His direct and confrontational approach cultivated substantial public sympathy, vividly demonstrated by the strikingly passive civilian response when Wagner fighters seized Rostov-on-Don during his mutiny.
Yet this influence is double-edged. While some voenkory maintain close ties to official structures, others face serious risks. Pro-war blogger Vladlen Tatarsky was assassinated in St Petersburg in 2023, reportedly by Ukrainian intelligence. Igor Girkin, an early pro-Russian leader in Donbas and a prominent critic, was sentenced to prison in 2024.
A double-edged sword
For families and friends at home, these same Telegram channels can serve as an unexpected and vital source of information. As both sides regularly publish interviews with prisoners of war, such videos may provide rare proof of life — a fragile hope that a son, husband or brother might one day return.
But the digital front can also be brutally exploitative. Platforms that offer reassurance are weaponised for psychological pressure. There are documented cases of families receiving extortion demands from across the frontline, with captors threatening prisoners unless ransoms are paid or certain actions taken. In some instances, news of a soldier’s death reaches relatives not through official channels, but via the circulation of explicit and traumatic footage.
The conflict has thus mobilised the full, unfiltered potential of social media. Wartime communication has adapted accordingly, undermining the state’s traditional monopoly over the narration of military campaigns. For analysts, the rise of Russian milbloggers reflects the absence — or inadequacy — of official state communication on social platforms. It is, in effect, modern communication for a modern war.
Capped influence
Yet this new visibility remains circumscribed. Raw footage and unfiltered narratives circulate largely within specific digital ecosystems — notably Telegram, or in the west, X (formerly Twitter). Most Russian people never encounter these images, as algorithms personalise information flows, reinforcing existing beliefs and limiting exposure to opposing views.
This selective exposure is reflected in continued Russian public support for the war. According to the latest Levada Center poll, 76 per cent of respondents still endorse the military operation in Ukraine. This may also reflect the fact that many Russians do not feel existentially threatened as a nation and see little need for international sympathy — which, in any case, is scarce.
The situation is markedly different in Ukraine, where sustaining domestic cohesion around the president and armed forces remains essential, as does maintaining a narrative capable of securing continued western support.